


Rise to Power

by DarkShadeless



Series: Long live the Emperor (whether he likes it or not) [8]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Imperial propaganda, Public Appearances, Republic propaganda, Yon is too good at this, a touch of, how to spin a situation to your advantage 101, on second thought, too I think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-21 12:30:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21074939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadeless/pseuds/DarkShadeless
Summary: It is rare for any one piece of news to have an impact of this scale. This one does but then, there has been no announcement like it in a thousand years.





	Rise to Power

**Author's Note:**

> The song I wrote this to is 'Strength of a Thousand Men' by Two Steps From Hell and it sure sets a certain mood.

The election of the new Emperor of the Sith makes the news even in the Republic. It swamps over neutral platforms into their own, too well spread to be filtered first. The holonet is abuzz within hours.

Political assassination is not something the Jedi Order or Republic Forces are well known for but the war has eroded many boundaries, too many for the claim to still be called wild. No ten years ago it could have been discounted easily. Now? It sows doubt.

But the controversy of that possible scandal is overshadowed by the _bearer _of the message sparking such turmoil.

_#Citizens of the Empire, I address you today with grave news.#_

It is the first time the Emperor's Wrath holds a speech of this magnitude. He has turned up at galactic hot spots over the years but he is an elusive figure in the grand scheme of Imperial conquest, nameless and faceless. That only serves to inflate his reputation.

_#Our lord and master, Emperor Vitiate, is dead.#_

In two sentences he brings activity on Imperial worlds across the galaxy to a halt.

The immortal Emperor, dead. His reign ended after a whole millennium. Shock is too mild a word for the emotion that splinters through their forces and citizens alike, reaching even for those who have little care for the inner workings of the Empire.

_#In what we must assume to be a cowardly attempt to weaken our nation, the Republic has availed itself of Jedi assassins, who invaded our Emperor's private sanctuary and murdered him in absence of all but his closest confidantes.#_

There is no room for doubt. The Wrath delivers this blow to them as unvarnished and merciless as is his wont. Their Emperor's most unflinching servant, to the last.

_#I will ask you now for a moment of silence.#_

He folds his hands on the dais and bows his head. Even on the central hub of Vaiken Spacedock one could have heard a pin drop.

Their Emperor, dead. It's unthinkable.

Minutes pass, as the news cast ripples across their entire nation, core worlds to front line. It’s the end of an era.

* * *

It's quiet in the backroom his Majesty’s assistants have been granted too, but the silence here has a slightly different quality. Miss Lorwe is staring at the screen with wide eyes. Jaesa is tempted to break character and smile at her sympathetically. "How far is he off script?"

On the feed her master ends his supplication with a gesture that surprises even her. Fastidiously, he folds his hood back and- His PR assistant makes a strangled noise.

Yep. Safe to say the script went out the window. In _hyperspace_.

* * *

On screen the Wrath hooks his fingers underneath the edges of his helmet. It detaches smoothly.

In his five years of service no one has ever seen his face, on or off the field. That anonymity, as much a part of his legend as his armor and unmatched power, ends in front of the eyes of their whole nation. In that simple move it is as if they have lost _him_ too, in some way.

Solemnly he turns the mask in his hands and looks down at what has become such a part of his image every soldier of their Empire would recognize it on sight.

_#In the interest of promoting stability, as of today, the Dark Council has decided upon a successor. Their unanimous vote has fallen on me.#_

Somewhere on Dromund Kaas, in front of a patched-up gaming console that has been high-jacked by the government to stream this crap, like every other semi-accessible media platform available, a very pale young man barely notices that his milkshake is dripping onto his mint-striped pyjama pants. “Holy shit. This is really happening. Oh my _stars_.”

When the Wrath turns his gaze at his audience, grief and quiet fury are lining his face.

_#It is not an honor I accept gladly but we all must serve where duty calls us.# _

As he speaks, his anger grows more pronounced. His eyes blaze with inner fire.

#_We will **not** bow to the terrorism of our enemies. If they think to have broken our spirit we will show them just how badly they have miscalculated.#_

The unforgiving fervour that has taken his voice seems to reach out to his listeners.

_#Fellow Imperials, have heart and stand tall. For the Empire.#_

Not a few echo that sentiment quietly, shaken. They have to, don’t they? They can't give up, not now or ever.

The Wrath, the former Wrath, looks at his discarded helmet thoughtfully before he sets it down on the podium and steps back. The action echoes with finality. He turns to leave.

His mask remains left behind.

At his exit the recorders pan out to catch the whole terrace. In the back of the balcony the Dark Council is waiting on him and, as he approaches, Darth Marr bows. His fellows follow his lead in rarely seen harmony.

With that astonishing picture the stream ends. The Imperial newscast cuts to the anchors, who look no less stunned than many a watcher the Empire over feels.

But, professionals to the last, they rally. One of them clears his throat. "Well, ladies and gentlemen. Citizens of the Empire." For a moment he seems lost for words. He swallows. "The Emperor is dead. Long live the Emperor."

* * *

Yon keeps his face carefully impassive until the door of his ready room have closed behind him. Only then does he take a deep breath. "How did I do?"

Miss Lorwe, bent over her console, sputters something unintelligible and flails vaguely in his direction.

He's not sure that's a good sign, considering her usual composure, but it's something that happens to most of his companions sooner or later. He throws Jaesa a glance.

"It seemed well done master."

That's all he can ask for, really.

* * *

“He _winged it_. The most important speech held in this entire war and he _winged it_.”

Jaesa gives in and pats the distressed woman on the shoulder. “Was it that bad?”

“It was _brilliant_,” she says in the tones of someone who has just seen their pet get run over by a hovertank. “… I need a drink.”

* * *

If the Republic was hoping for a blow to their enemies’ morale, or an uptick in Sith infighting, they are sadly disappointed. Oh, the news does spread like a wildfire and perhaps it wins them some ground but they aren’t prepared enough to make the most of it.

There is another complication, too. The Wrath’s unexpected rise to power and its effect is a turn of events that hadn’t been foreseen even by those in the know.

Yes, the Jedi have removed the Emperor. As it turns out that means less to the citizens of the Republic than it does to the Order.

It is understandable, from the right point of view. They have replaced an unseen, unreal spectre with a man. A very real, very visible man, who has proven his mettle alongside his troops.

For the first time in years uncounted the Empire has an Emperor that does not reign from afar.

The throne of the nation they are at war with is no longer held by a ghost. Instead their enemy is now ruled by a mass murderer who shook Corellia, one of their core worlds, to within an inch of resistance no three years ago and left the Green Enclave a tomb in the process.

It's hard to say whose morale suffers more.


End file.
